Sadist's Polish
by SomeNavyRecruit
Summary: "I will see you at the next meeting, Amerika. I'll be sure to tell England where you are." Russia nearly chirped the words. He walked away then, leaving the blond alone and dying in the cold. It's what America truly deserved.  Russia POV, Ame beat-down.


Here's some hurt with no comfort. I figured I should try some since it's illogical that in every universe Russia and America would end up in bed together...though I certainly wouldn't mind that hehehe.

There will eventually be a companion fic of America's come back, don't worry. It's not written yet so don't expect it any time immediately, but it'll eventually come to be!

I don't own Hetalia.

**xXx**

"Your uniform is deplorable, Amerika." Russia murmured in his childish voice, eyes narrowed and lips curled into the usual cruel smile. He stood before the blond nation, standing tall where America was forced to his knees due to his injuries and the heavy restraints placed on his person.

"It wouldn't be so dirty if you hadn't touched it, Commie." America responded, eyes still defiant even rimmed in bruises and sallow skin. He didn't bother trying to pull at the thick chains holding him down. He already knew Russia had worn him down too much for him to be able to escape that way, though he knew he'd try again in just a few short hours.

He never was very good at admitting defeat.

"Tsk." Wind whistled around a slender object, the omnipresent pipe colliding with the blond's shoulder and breaking bone. The crack was audible and the flesh and muscle visibly sagged below the force of the blow but America held fast. Blue eyes never once left violet.

The curved end of the pipe slid under a strong chin, holding his head up despite the lack of need. America would never willingly bow his head to anyone, even under pain of death. The stubborn fool.

"You are a despicable excuse for a nation, Amerika." Russia growled, using the pipe to force said nation's head higher, curving his neck and exposing his vulnerable throat. The sight made him want to wrap his fingers around the warm skin and _squeeze._

"No matter how bad you think I am, at least I _know _you're worse." America smirked as he said it and didn't show any of the discomfort or pain that he felt all throughout his body. Russia had been slowly destroying Alfred's body for the past couple of days, maybe weeks now, but the rotten commie would never be able to touch his spirit.

Nothing he did would bring him any closer to _America._

"Do not be childish." Growling again, Russia dropped the pipe from America's chin and replaced it at the top of his head. He pushed, forcing the proud nation down; down to the floor, bowing his body like it should naturally be whenever Russia was in the room. The impudent whelp would learn his place soon enough.

"How is it that you consider yourself fit to even breathe?" Russia continued pressing down on the pipe, pinning America's head to the floor by now. The blond's hands were shackled to the ground and now it looked like the young nation was supplicating himself to Russia. It was a nice image, even if the larger nation knew America would likely impale himself on the pipe than assume this position of his own volition.

If he kept struggling against him like he was, he may just do it, too. The younger man was pushing against the pipe hard enough Russia was just waiting for the bright flare of red to signal his blunt weapon had broken skin.

"The next world meeting is coming up." America huffed out, still arching his back and wiggling under the pipe, trying to get out from under it to meet Russia's violet gaze again. His hands clenched and chains rattled as he jerked on his bindings. "You'll have to let me go. I'm going to fucking skin you alive when it's over."

"You are not skilled enough to keep me alive." Russia commented idly, unafraid. Even if America did manage to kidnap him as he had captured the young nation, he doubted the blond had the stomach for a real torture session. Ever since the cold war had ended America had steadily become weaker and weaker, the nation crippling itself out of some inane need to not be unfairly strong or worse, _unjust. _American citizens constantly fought each other over such useless things as death penalties and whether they should or shouldn't get involved in this or that fight.

They were a gutless people, now. Hiding behind their military and squealing about the indignities of war that they'd never have to face themselves.

It was making him sick just thinking about it.

"I'll show you what I can do." America promised, finally managing to turn his head enough to get out from under the metal. He got his hands under him and pushed up, looking at the Russian while he was on his hands and knees, bruises littering his body where his tattered uniform didn't cover. His hard expression wasn't right for how erotic a position he'd assumed or how enticing his body was at the moment. "I'll make you wish you'd never pulled me out of my cab after the last meeting."

"I'd like to see that." Russia sneered the words and placed his pipe back on America's head. He forced the nation's gaze down again until blue eyes were staring at the shiny surface of his boots. His lips curled, deviously cruel. He was finished with the American and the meeting really was getting too close. It was time to end it.

"Do you know why I polish my boots so well, Amerika?" Russia asked softly, almost conversationally if not for the lingering promise of pain and suffering threading his voice. He felt the way the other nation paused, confusion halting his struggles where hurt and humiliation never would.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Alfred couldn't help but stare at said boots now, brows furrowing. They were pretty shiny; he was able to see himself in the tips even.

He looked like hell.

"It is simple, da?" Russia took the pipe away, America's curiosity and confusion making the nation's head stay bowed, staring at the boots. It made the silver haired man tut internally at how easy it was to manipulate the superpower. Just further proof that Alfred didn't deserve the strength he possessed.

"It is so when you are in your proper place, kneeling before me, you will see just how unworthy you are to be in my presence." The words fell just seconds before he drove his pipe straight through Alfred's back, severing spine and punching into the wood of the floor, leaving him impaled and stuck to the ground more completely than the chains would have left him.

Blood choked out of Alfred's mouth, blue eyes wide as he spat up red all over the shiny boots, marring his reflection. Tears came up to his eyes as he began half suffocating on his own blood and he felt the familiar painful burn of his stomach acid leaking into his chest cavity, burning up his organs.

"F-fuck...you..." He muttered as his vision began to fog and then darken. Russia always liked to give him stomach wounds because they were one of the worst ways to die. Fucking bastard.

"I will see you at the next meeting, Amerika. I'll be sure to tell England where you are." Russia nearly chirped the words, extracting his pipe and wiping the excess blood and gore off on Alfred's writhing body. He walked away without another word, leaving the blond alone and dying in the cold.

It's what America truly deserved.


End file.
